Stardust
by just-grey
Summary: EC. Challenge fic. "Somehow the imperfect was just...perfect."


**A/N:** _Challenge fic from V-Day challenge for HSCT.(Hipphuggers Story Challenge Thread)_

**Elements Used:**

--a cold shower--_check!_

--a piano--_check!_

--a red bow--_check!_

* * *

Out of everything; the bright and lavish decorations, his co-workers standing about, staring and whispering at them, or the beauty of her standing before him. Out of everything, he noticed the bright, bouncy, red bow on the too small box, was crooked. 

--

He raised his eyes upward, his eyes soley directed downward at the bow beforehand, and as he did so he noticed more and more; her shoes were mismatched(they weren't), her dress was ripped and dirty(perfectly new, pressed and clean), hair askew(every single strand perfectly combed and curled). He noticed such things that weren't really there. He knew this, because he knew her. Because he could see through her perfect stilettos, see through her perfectly pressed red dress that flowed wildly around her knees, see through the hair that was perfectly done. Perfect. But he didn't want to see perfect. He wanted to see. He wanted to _see_ her. Actually see her. Her imperfections. _Her_.

--

The bright, bouncy, red bow atop the too small box, was crooked.

--

He met her eyes finally and tried so desperately to break through her perfect facade, to what he really wanted to see. A crooked grin maybe? A crooked grin on her perfect face. That would have to do.

--

He slowly reached for the box, watching as a light pink hue started to form on her pale cheeks. He'd never seen her her nervous or shy before, this was completely new to him. And he relished in the moment. Never wanting to forget the color her cheeks were, never wanting to forget the hesitation in her eyes as his hands finally touched the box.

--

His fingers barely covered hers as he held on. He could feel the coldness of her slender hands under his and suddenly wanted to never remove his hands from hers; to cover them up and keep her hands warm with his. He resisted the temptation to do so.

--

She slowly removed her hands when his warm ones covered hers. Suddenly, she had the urge to grab his hands and never let go; giving in to the warmth of them. She resisted that urge.

--

Her eyes bore into his, encouraging him to open the box. He understood the silent encouragement and looked back down to the box, ready to finally open it. She appeared to be waiting patiently, but her foot said otherwise. A soft tapping from her right foot brought his eyes back to her, his mouth twitching into a smirk, his eyebrows raised. She sighed heavily and he chuckled and went back to the box. His index finger twitched over the bow, she held her breath and watched as he barely tugged on the bow...then abruptly stopped and looked up at her.

--

He grinned, set the box on a nearby table and looked at her curious face. Soft keys of the large piano in the corner of room and strumming of a guitar could be heard, flowed by a deep soothing voice. She looked up at him again, still unaware.

"Stardust," he whispered.

Yet, she still didn't quite catch on, but soon realized what he was speaking of-or lack thereof-as he guided her toward the dance floor where couples swayed softly to the deep voice of the singer, the floating sound of the guitar and the magical keys of the piano.

--

Her hands instantly warmed as their fingers laced together and he pulled her gently to him. The skirt of her dress whipped around their legs as she raised her arms to encircle his neck. His hands rested on her hips, swaying them to the piano's music. She looked up at him, his gaze focused on her. His brown eyed gaze filled her whole body with warmth, and she remembered the cold shower she had taken at home, her water heater malfunctioning for the time being-creating a quite distressed woman, that had kept her body cold and shivering-even as she entered the warm building-she somehow couldn't warm herself up, until she was in the arms of him, that is.

--

She wasn't aware of how close they had become until she felt his tickling breath on her cheek. She turned her head slightly, looking at him directly.

--

He saw it then; her crooked smile on her perfect face. That is what he loved about her; her imperfections that made her perfect. He loved when she showed her imperfections with him, comfortable enough not to care-yet caring greatly.

--

But, oh, how he loved the feeling of her lips brushing against his. How soft flutters in his stomach sprouted when they kissed. Soft declarations of love, in such small, but passionate kisses. Oh, how he loved that.

--

They swayed contently on the dance floor, none really knowing for how long. They were content together, her dress whipping at their legs as they danced, his warmth comforting her, and lips touching every so often.

--

The night went on, couples leaving and going-them staying-and the little box with the crooked and over sized bow still unopened and imperfect.

--

But most of all he loved her, and how the imperfect was somehow...perfect.

* * *

_Reviews keep me sane! Five stars to anyone who can figure out what song I'm referring to!_


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